Seer Seeing
by Anna Tramell
Summary: I, Theodore Nott, have no idea what exactly I saw today so I'll just write it down and hope it eventually makes sense. There is absolutely no discernible reason that Harry Potter was kissing Severus Snape.


Sidenote: Theodore Nott is a pure-blood, sixth-year Slytherin, the same year as Harry. There's not much to go on about him, so I did take a few liberties. We do know his father is a Death Eater and his mother's dead (perhaps related, he can see thestrals). He's known to keep company with Malfoy and gang, but seems to be more of a loner. Everything else is my own guesswork.

**Seer Seeing**

I, Theodore Nott, don't know what I exactly saw today so I'll write it all down - you know, make it completely objective, then come back to it, see if the string ties the bushel together. Or whatever.

Professor Snape forgot to sign my detention slip before I left so I had to double-back. And I want to add that detention was definitely not my fault. Blaise was being a prat, as usual, but if he got another detention, he'd have to skip Hogsmeade, therefore miss his date with soul-mate Tracey (and you have to understand that she's real good for him, I just get a good feeling). I'm a romantic at heart, I took the fall. What are friends for? (Don't answer that.) I ran into Potter on my way out, which is whatever, he was always getting detention so I didn't think much of it. Halfway to the library, I had to double back because like hell I'm going to repeat a detention, even with my head of house. And he's the kind of bastard that would make you serve it again if he's got cauldrons needed to be cleaned.

I should've knocked, but the door was cracked open and Snape doesn't respond well to sound half the time. His temperament is hard to judge at best and he seemed edgy the whole time I was there. Mistake number two.

"How long are you we going to pretend?" I heard Potter – yeah, _Harry _Potter – ask. He had come around behind Snape's desk and murmured in his ear. Like swear to Hecate leaning over his shoulder, _touching _him. I thought Snape was going to _snap_. And the whole thing was so bizarre that I forgot why I was there. I just stood halfway in the doorway, clutching the form while I stood in their blind spot.

"I've several essays to grade," Professor rumbled back in that low-ass monotone voice of you know 'You bore the hell out of me.' Which is his normal voice, really.

"You love me," Harry Potter said decidedly, his arms sliding around the man's neck like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You missed me."

"Oh yes, and I just can't wait anymore. Let's tell Dumbledore that we want to get married and have tons of children, then move out to the country." He delivered that line so fluidly, so _bored_ while he was flipping through papers, I was convinced that this was a weird joke.

Potter nuzzled - yes! _nuzzled_ - against his cheek. "Can wizards even _have_ kids?"

"Merlin's knob, I don't _want_ kids," Prof. Snape said incredulous.

"I want to get married someday, you know, after the war and all," Potter said, then added, "To you."

"After you waltz in and defeat the Dark Lord. I'm sorry to disappoint you but I plan on dying in this scheme."

"Don't talk like that."

"I don't see another way around it. You'd rather me make foolish promises?"

He'd turned to glare at Potter and the scowl vanished altogether into a soft expression I've never seen Snape - let alone anyone wear. Then they kissed and I melted through the door because hell I'd forgotten about the form and I didn't really care because _the Chosen One was making out with the Slytherin Head of the House or doing more but I don't want to know_.

So here I am back at the room with a bottle of Firewhiskey I knicked from Draco Malfoy. I can't get the image out of my head of tongue - bloody tongue, _snogging_. Harry Potter. Professor Snape. _Snogging_. Full out sloppy, tongue, spit, moans. No. NO.

NO!

I know what a love potion looks like, I've seen victims. I have to rule out that possibility. That kind of freaks me out more, because then that kissing thing was real, like they're seriously together behind the scenes. Or maybe it wouldn't because then either one or the other would've had to administer it. And that whole thing might as well be rape when you involve a love potion.

I don't even want to know how all this happened.

"_Hey professor, do you like me, check yes or no_."

or worse. "_Come see me after class, Golden Boy, and I'll show you a real good time_."

That's enough to make anyone shiver.

Maybe you can't hate someone so much without having some kind of feelings for them?

Anyways, I'm still not done with my Transfiguration essay. And I still can't get all this out of my head so I'm going to drink the rest of this and keep ignoring Daphne because who wants to fuck after what I just saw, am I right?

Still awake, more questions.

Has Prof. Snape dated other students? Who started it? Harry Potter's gay? How long has all this been going on? Is Potter being taken advantage of? Who's on top? Am I supposed to report this shite? Tell Headmaster Dumbledore? Urgh.

I can't really sleep, that's nothing new. Booze doesn't actually help because now I'm just sweating all over the place, but it's an improvement from the usual thoughts if that ain't sad. Aunt sent more papers, for example. There's five internships this summer, three of which I won't qualify for. Grades aren't looking up but her and Dad seem hopeful. Like... I want to be a Ministry assistant. Suppose they'll also want me to take the mark this summer too, been putting that off. Think the Dark Lord needs a half-decent Seer? Dad won't admit he's miserable, either way, so I'm not keen in joining, just playing the part until I can get out of this place.

I told Draco I kept taking Divination because it was an easy elective (a lot of people do that anyways), but if you want to know the truth, I think I'm as good a Seer as Grandmother was. It's the worse thing to be good at in this decade. There's only a few select that work with the Ministry, and the rest run booths along Knockturn Alley.

How useless.

I think it's worse that _I_ like it, liked it when the old bat (sorry) taught it, liked it more when Firenze taught, liked it back when Grandmother read my palms and showed me her personal crystal ball and we watched clouds of fog swirl out and shape around my fingers, waiting for my questions. I tried channeling all this into Magical Theory studies. Guess what? Also useless - there hasn't been a breakthrough in fifty years and otherwise, no one actually cares. Then there's a huge bit of fanatics that are either proving the validity of pure-blood or supporting half-bloods. Some study magic within other breeds. No thanks. I want to know where it originates and I don't think myths are the place to start. Race is boring.

I think I'd like to go to Egypt and study there for a bit. Maybe I'll tell them I'm trying to get some dragons for the war out there, while conducting side-studies. There's an internship, one place. I think I could get it.

Now in Defense Against the Dark Arts, watching Snape and Potter intentionally avoiding each other. Not sure how I didn't see it before. The spark was unmistakable between them, everyone just assumed it was hatred. Maybe that's how it started. Snape's awful at acting when it comes to Potter and Potter's worse. You can count the intervals he fixes from paper to teacher, as if too much of either is a dead-giveaway. Then queue a biting remark, all Slytherins snigger our support. Clockwork.

I have to conclude it's love, which is only slightly disturbing at this point because it's radiant and genuine and real. Why do they work? Well, it can't end well for either. Oh, Potter just got another detention. Lucky bastard. Well, lucky for both. No one suspects a thing. Noticed it also in the Great Hall, there's no indication there - I suppose they're too far away. Dumbledore's too daft.

Love's weird.

I wonder how much the Prophet buys for a story like this. Maybe I'd be set for life. It's tempting. But not enough. Now that I think about, I don't know if I ever saw either smile until recently - let's safely assume when this, er, relationship started. I'm not one to bust that kind of thing. Aunt would be upset that I don't take my chance. Too bad.

Now that reminds me... Draco's still got that "mission." He told me about it, thinks he can trust me with the information. I'm a gold-mine of information, secret keeper for all. I'd probably go to the papers with _that_ before Potter's scandal, but then again, I value my hide.

Off-track: Must apply to the internship today.

Not looking forward to finals. Hopefully Draco's plan plays through and they'll get canceled.

Daphne's talking about marriage. Wish I could dump her until after finals. It sucks being in the same house. Girls think it's free license to stomp up the stairs and climb into bed with you. When does she even study? She thinks it's important we spend time together everyday. Can't imagine being married to her. But I can't really deal with being married to anyone else and I need someone to feed me.

Well it really comes down to Grandmother approving of her. And anyways... I don't know why, but I think her hands are perfect, her breasts are soft, and she likes the idea of the internship. She'd move with me, attend the university. I like that. I think I will propose to her.

You know... after we break up for a bit and we get back together. I'll propose then.

Where to begin.

Draco succeeded. Kind of.

But _Snape_ finished the job.

It's out: Snape killed Dumbledore.

Snape killed Harry Potter's mentor, his symbol of direction and good. His father figure, confidante, etc.

I heard Potter chased his ex-lover down, tried to kill him. Didn't succeed there, doubt he would. Sucks for them both. I had high hopes. Should write a novel over the account and change the names.

Draco just said things are really going to change from here. Really, Draco? How did you deduce this, you little genius prick? Of course things are going to change. The "Dark Lord"'s biggest threat's gone, his weapon is standing by. A war's brewing. Nothing stays the same.

I've also heard that Snape's going to take on role as Headmaster. Wonder how Potter's going to take it. It was only two weeks ago that I caught Potter sneaking a kiss after class. (Really should be careful, those two, but also doesn't matter now, hm). Poor bastard's angry. Crazy angry. His friend's don't get it. They vibrate with confusion, but they're clouded with their stubbornness over going from best friends to special friends. Annoying.

Daphne cried for three days straight. (I'm exaggerating a little.) She likes the ring, she wants to honeymoon in Copenhagen. She thinks Egypt will be too hot - we'll see. Planning will keep her busy while I study.

I love her, though. I actually love her. Glad I didn't doubt Grandmother. She's coming to Egypt, with no questions asked. I don't think many girls would do that. So maybe she loves me and I love her. I have something Harry Potter will not have- that just makes me feel luckier. More appreciative and shit. I wonder how he's holding up.

Got the internship. Dad's not thrilled. I told him it's a cover-up, fed him the story I practiced. I left out the part about Daphne coming with me. Left out the part we're engaged. He likes Daphne, he likes his schemes more. I think I've actually been betrothed to one of his friend's daughters since the day I was born. Whoops.

Can't wait for bloody Egypt.

Something's nagging at me. Stared at Grandmother's old ball and it's hopeful for the future. I don't think the Dark Lord's been right all this time - with the key to fix all problems, no. He's got power. You stick with the power to survive. But he wants to destroy order. The ball tells a different story. It might have something to do with the night Dumbledore died. I just know things are in control right now.

Glad I'm far away...

….Daphne looks good in everything she wears. That is all...

It's been five years since the war, one year since Harry Potter married Ginny Weasley. That does bug me. The engagement was quick, apparently. I was there for the wedding ("crashed" it, really) and they asked for objections. Why didn't I say anything then?

It's been five years but Harry Potter's agreed to see me. No doubt, he thinks it'll have something to do with my father or the Dark Lord, or that I might be seeking revenge. He's probably figured it could be a trap; this meeting could mean rounding up another troublemaker left over from the war.

He enters the Three Broomsticks looking real put-out ie the exact opposite of a newly-wed who should be getting loads of passionate and inventive sex. Like me and Daphne did. Still do. Still not sure how to approach the subject, so I smooth down my old journal entries, pass them over and watch him frown, glare, then scan the papers from left to right with increasing anxiety finally falling into the seat.

"Where do you even come up with this rubbish?" he spits out, attempting to crumble the paper, and failing miserable with the way his hands are shaking. Shit liar.

"I'm not going to the press. I mean, if I was going to, I could've already - and if I _still _did, I doubt they'd believe me." I take a sip and wait for the tension to lessen. It doesn't. So I continue. "Blimey, I've been carrying this around for years and needed to say something!"

More silence. I finish my tumbler.

"I also think it was a huge mistake for you to marry Ginny Weasley."

He stares at the paper. I order an entire bottle of scotch. Harry Potter fumbles to pour himself a generous helping and we drink for a bit. I realize then that I've never spoken two words toward the guy.

"I don't love her," he confides, "but I think she knows it anyways. She's fine with it as long as I'm loyal."

I nod even though the whole idea sounds wretched. Grandmother hates it.

"I hated him until the moment he was dying and then (a breathless laugh) that's when I knew he was innocent." He swallows hard. "Ron and Hermione were there and I was just frozen staring at him as he died. He gave me his memories, and watched me until he died."

I didn't know that. Actually, I don't know much about that night. Wasn't there to see it unfold. There was something about Potter faking his death, all out fighting. And then he was dead. Loads of people died, really.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" he whispers. There's actually no one else back here, no reason to whisper.

"Wasn't my place, too," I semi-whisper.

He looks like he's going to cry.

"Let me see your hands, Potter."

He obliges (as you oblige to every official Seer) and rests them on the table. I trace ever indented line, feel every mound. Find no real surprises. His heart's line mangled, his head line is light and his life line is strong, marked with crosses and alternate paths. "You'll have three kids" I tell him, tapping his palm with importance. "You'll be happy from this point on, not ecstatic, but comfortable." I'm not really lying, but I'm not telling the truth either.

He says I'm full of shit in that drunk kind of way, but he keeps rubbing his dominant hand with the fingers from the other in some kind of wonder. "You're alright though, Nott."

"You're not half bad either, Potter."

We finished that bottle, never spoke again after that. Saw him at the Ministry a few times, once at reunion. Nothing much to say, really.

Life's so weird.


End file.
